


Losing You

by ShellyFanFic



Series: SEAL Team Week 2021 [3]
Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Brain Injury, F/M, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Not a death fic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShellyFanFic/pseuds/ShellyFanFic
Summary: SEAL Team Week 2021 fic for Wednesday - prompt: Worst Fear
Relationships: Lisa Davis/Sonny Quinn
Series: SEAL Team Week 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112318
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Losing You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having the worst week and I'm not really too happy with this one but I could tinker forever so... here goes.

Caracas had been a compete shit show from beginning to end and everyone was feeling it. The tragic loss of Dr Craig and the true extent of Vic’s betrayal had left them all reeling. This, hot on the heels of so many other hits, so many losses, had the team beginning to question how long they could just keep rolling with the punches.

After the AAR and stripping Vic of his trident the team had gathered at Brock’s place to regroup. The boys would have all preferred the bar, but Lisa was still having some headaches (and some intermittent dizziness that she chose to keep to herself) and didn’t think she would be able to handle the noise of the Bulkhead.

So, it had been a quiet affair with some steaks and a few beers around the fire pit. Sonny and Clay had drifted away from the group. They talked some and made their best efforts yet to rekindle the bromance. Clay was still feeling hurt, upset with all the blow offs and the bullshitting, but mostly sad that the man he considered his best friend had not trusted him enough to tell him about his girl. Tonight was a start, but some lasting damage had been done and it wasn’t going to be a quick fix.

Jason had gravitated to Mandy as he always seemed to do. Trent, Ray, Brock and Metal had been sat chatting quietly with Lisa when she excused herself to grab another seltzer. She had made it almost to the cooler when she faltered and then dropped like a stone.

Cerberus was the first to let them know something was wrong, yipping and tugging at Brocks sleeve before she even hit the ground. In an instant the men closest to her were on their feet, but Sonny had seen her start to fall. Despite him being half a yard’s length further away than Brock and Trent, he had been the first one to reach her. He had hit the ground with a forward momentum, not even noticing his skinned knees as he clung to her hand and frantically called her name.

By the time Trent settled at her side her eyes were open but rolling unfocused and her attempt at speech was heavily slurred. She had a slight gravel rash up one forearm and a nasty gash above her left eye, but Trent was more concerned with what was going on beneath the surface than the superficial injuries he could see. It took a moment for him to remember that they were on home turf and issue the instruction for someone to call 911.

Sonny was one-handedly fumbling with his phone when Brock calmly took it from him and spoke as the call connected. Sonny continued to talk to Lisa. If anyone thought the shake of his hands or the tremble in his voice unusual, they didn’t call him on it.

The medics had arrived to find Trent kneeling, a thigh either side of her head to keep her immobile, med kit spread out around him and a list of vitals to hand ready to brief them.

xx – ST - xx

The next few hours passed by in a blur of panic and fear like Sonny had never felt before. Seeing an unresponsive Lisa strapped to a spinal board and carried away from him made him feel physically ill. Trent accompanied Lisa in the ambulance leaving Sonny to ride in with Clay. The journey felt unbearably long. He worried his lucky cap the whole way as he tried desperately to breathe through the nausea and not break down under Clay’s silent scrutiny.

At the hospital he sat and bounced his knee relentlessly in the waiting room, ignoring the irritated glare of his team leader, and later the inquisitive eye of Blackburn. Unable to collect himself enough to hold a meaningful conversation with anyone, he maintained his silence and openly wiped at his glassy tear-filled eyes when his emotions overtook him.

It felt like an eternity before the doctor emerged in his scrubs and called “Mr Quinn, for Lisa Davis?”

He pushed himself wearily to his feet and choked down a sob. “That… that’s me, Doc.”

All manner of possibilities and worst-case scenarios were running through his head. Of all the things that ever terrified him nothing compared to this moment.

“She is in critical condition” was the punch to the gut that knocked the wind right out of him. His hands went to his knees and all he heard was the rushing of blood in his ears. He forced himself upright and moved on autopilot following the doctor back to see Lisa in recovery.

A little while later she was settled into a side room in the ICU and Trent was allowed to join them. He handed Sonny a piping hot coffee loaded with sugar and promptly sat down to stop himself from snagging her chart - Sonny needed to hear the simple version right now.

Composed enough to take the information on board he listened intently as Trent explained that Lisa had a bleed on the brain which caused her to collapse. That in the emergency surgery the doctors had drilled burr holes in her skull to relieve the pressure. That they just had to wait now and give her some time. Sonny gave a small nod of acknowledgment and held on to her hand like both their lives depended on it.

That was on Tuesday.

Today was Friday.

The team were taking shifts, but Sonny was the original immovable object. He sat next to the hospital bed, his head resting against the chair back as he tried desperately to blink away the sandman. He forced himself to move before sleep took him and sighed deeply as he scrubbed his palms over his face yet again. Three nights. Three long damned nights he’d sat here already, and she still wouldn’t wake up.

“Sonny why don’t you take a break? I’ll stay tonight.” Mandy sat on the other side of the bed with tired eyes and what looked like the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“Not goin’ anywhere.”

“Sonny you need to rack out. You’re exhausted.”

“And you’re not? You’ve hardly slept since…” he trailed off, not needing to give her any further explanation. She shrugged her shoulders and bobbed her head in resignation.

“You can stay, or you can go Mandy, but it’s like I said… not goin’ anywhere.”

They both settled in for the long haul. It was another long-ass night of playing ‘no news is good news’ and finally at around 6am Saturday morning Mandy admitted defeat. She called Jason to give her a ride home and left with a promise to return later with coffee, food and clean clothes. On her way home she fired off a text to Clay.

_Sonny needs someone at the hospital with him._

xx – ST - xx

Sonny knew he had to take a break, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her. He was terrified that she would wake up and not know where she was or what was happening. He liked the façade of being the dumbass redneck, but the fact of the matter was that he could read as well as the next man, and he didn’t like what he had been reading.

The medical staff seemed happy enough. The numbers moved in the right direction; the scans looked good, the EEG was positive. The language the doctor’s used was encouraging, their current descriptor of choice was ‘stable’. While he was relieved that it was no longer the ‘critical’ that they chose to use immediately following her surgery, there didn’t seem to be any tangible improvement to speak of.

He was concerned about the possibility of brain damage and lasting disabilities, of persistent headaches and dizziness, depression, irritability, memory issues. He was concerned that this could impact her ability to do her job, and more so, impact her ability to live a full and active life.

The fear and exhaustion were taking a toll on him and he felt the familiar anxiety and shortness of breath building once again. For many years he’d argued that counselling was for sissies. Ha! Thank the good Lord the boys weren’t here to see him talking himself down from a panic attack. Hell would freeze over before he’d admit to using a grounding technique his therapist taught him after Clay got himself blown up.

Sonny started reciting his sensory inputs out loud. Five things he could see… _walls, floor, bed, chair, Lisa._ Four things he could hear… _heart monitor, rain against the window, the squeaky wheel of the medication trolley, Lisa’s breathing._ Three things he could feel… _the floor beneath his socked feet, the chair against his back, her hand beneath his._ Two things he could smell… _disinfectant, her perfume._ One thing he could taste... _the aftertaste of stale coffee._

The one thing he was not aware of in that moment was Clay observing him from just outside the open door of Lisa’s room. Clay knew what his brother was doing, recognised the shaking hands and breaths to match, and he was a little taken aback. He stood quietly allowing him to complete his routine uninterrupted. Before Clay could announce his arrival, Sonny blew out a long hard breath and started to talk again - this time to Lisa.

“Come on now, Davis. You gotta wake up for me darlin’.”

That piqued Clay’s interest.

“I have sat here for four nights and God knows I am _ripe_ , but I ain’t going nowhere ‘til you open those beautiful eyes. Come on babe, please wake up for me. All this bull crap we been through together, bombings and shootings, near drownings, too many losses… Lis, it’s taken me ten years of friendship and a year of something more than that to realise that my worst fear in this life… is losing you.”

Clay watched as Sonny lent forward and kissed her on the cheek before lifting her motionless hand to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand over and over then held it against his chest as he sobbed.

“Come on, Davis. Please baby, please come on back to me.”

Clay pinched the bridge of his nose the same way Jason does when he’s trying to work the problem. It all made perfect sense. The rain checks and the let downs all fell into place. The secrets and the lies of the last twelve months all perfectly understandable at last. Davis was the untenable relationship Sonny had spoken of - the one that left him broken and hurting and struggling to cope.

It had been Sonny who took the time to notice when Stella ditched him before Mexico, but here he was, too wrapped up in advancing his own relationship and career to notice what his best friend was going through. He sat on the side-lines with a front row seat to Sonny’s self-destruction and did nothing. He felt like such an ass.

Knowing that he was intruding on what should be a private moment and wanting to give Sonny some time to regain control of himself, Clay backed away quietly and took the long way to the cafeteria. When he arrived there, he texted Sonny.

_Son, I’m 15 mikes out. Coffee and a sandwich sound good to you?_

He was third in line when Sonny’s response came through.

_Sounds great. And Lisa said she feels like an iced peach tea to sip. She’s real thirsty._


End file.
